Alive Again
by fyrefox13
Summary: Waking up very much alive with only a name and address in his pocket, and too ashamed to go back to his Captain, Chris Redfield, Piers Nivans reaches out to the person most likely to understand his situation, Leon S. Kennedy. Returning from the dead can be difficult, but so can coming to terms with your own demons, let alone the government's. Worse yet, there are still dangers lurk


Piers had traveled extremely far, without much money, or real shelter. He'd picked up odd jobs along the way, making just enough to scrounge food, or a ride. Finally the young soldier had made it to DC, and had found the address he was looking for. This journey could have been over weeks ago had he had the courage to knock on Chris' door. However, seeing his captain through his window had filled him with guilt for what he'd done to himself, and Piers couldn't bear it. He'd just pulled his hoodie up tighter and walked on.

Now, standing on a street as the sun set, he stared up at an apartment in Washington, just blocks from the White House. No lights were being turned on, so he guessed the man who lived there was still at work. Agent Kennedy was his best hope for someone to be reasonable about his infection.

The former B.S.A.A. soldier had read Kennedy's reports, and knew the man had a keen understanding of those living with a virus they didn't choose. Well, Piers had willingly injected himself with the C-virus, but he hadn't had a choice at the time. He had tried to do himself in in that collapsing facility, but had found himself unable to drown, and had regenerated from his injuries from battle, and the structure collapse. Now, he had no choice but to live on. Somehow. Kennedy had assisted others like him though, the young women, Birkin and Hidalgo, Kozachenko, and had even been host to the Las Plagas parasite himself. If anyone would help him, it would be Leon.

However, Piers had no idea when the man would return. He was getting cold, and extremely drowsy, an ill effect of weeks without proper sleep. Glancing around, he saw no one nearby, and noticed the fire-escape leading up to a window. If Piers could jimmy the thing open, he could get inside and wait safely. Jumping up, and climbing the metal frame, Piers was able to reach the window easily enough. He was about to pull out a pocket knife to try and move the mechanism, when he noticed it wasn't latched. This was very bizarre for a government agent, and he glanced around again before opening the window. As he did, he noticed many marks from a knife, someone had broken in numerous times, obviously. It seemed like either they were there currently, or Kennedy had given up trying to keep them out.

Hoping it was the latter, Piers slid the window up as silently as possible, and slipped inside. Looking around, he was surprised by how neat the place was kept. Suddenly, a shadow came out of nowhere, and Piers froze as he heard a growl. Oh... this was why Kennedy didn't worry about the window. The agent had a dog. Fortunately, the dog didn't come after him, just stood there growling at the intruder. Slowly, very slowly, Piers used his most non-threatening posture, and reached out to let the dog smell him. After a tense moment, he felt wetness on his outstretched hand. Seems the dog didn't mind him. That was a plus. The animal shifted in the light, and Piers could make out a white, fluffy coat. Something like a mix between shepherd, husky, and a golden retriever. Figured.

Closing the window and making his way further into the apartment, Piers quickly got a sense for Kennedy. He liked being comfortable, but didn't strive for luxury by any means. He was neat, and organized, but managed to relax enough to actually live in the place. He had a cocky side, but was more apt to be quiet and reserved. He was well-read though, his book-shelf stocked well, including the complete works of Doyle. Obviously wanted to be a detective at some point. The kitchen wasn't a disappointment either, and Piers grabbed a small granola bar to tide over his loudly complaining stomach, and drank a glass of water.

Heading into the living room, he seated himself in a chair easily seen from the door, and waited. Yawning, the young soldier started nodding off, and unconsciously curled up in the chair, kicking his shoes off, quickly falling asleep.

It was near 10:00pm when Leon finally got home. The day had been hectic, nee chaotic. Running him back and forth all over the place before finally sticking him with overtime and paperwork. He was dragging and tired as he opened the door. Taking him a moment longer than it should have, he spotted the figure in his chair. Instinctively drawing his gun, he trained it on the man. Realizing the intruder was asleep, and that his dog, Sera, had curled up at the foot of the chair, he closed the door quietly. Some guard dog he had, curling up with an intruder. Then again, perhaps Ada's constant break-ins had desensitized her to it. Then again, a human man was a far cry from an El Gigante. Creeping towards the man in his chair, gun still drawn and at the ready, he tried to make out the face, but he was wearing a hood. Reaching out with his left hand, he tapped the man on the shoulder gently, rousing him slowly, and calmly.

"Who are you, and what are you doing here?" Leon asked as the other started moving. The young man looked up at him, seemingly too tired to care about the gun in the agent's hand. Though, as the young man's face was revealed, Leon felt his whole body go cold, as if he'd seen a ghost. He recognized the face instantly, despite the pink scars branching up his face like thick vines, and the discolored icy blue eye. This was Chris Redfield's partner back in China, the one who'd died on the underwater oil rig.

"Piers? Piers Nivans?" Leon asked, shock and surprise in his voice. The young man in his chair noded, pushing his hood back, eyes finally falling to the gun. The agent sighed, lowering his weapon, and looked over the soldier curled up in his chair. Chris had confided in him that the young man had been infected, which would explain a lot. Leon knew he should be cautious of that infection, but that didn't mean he couldn't treat Piers like a human being.

"You hungry?" The older man asked, a small, amicable smile on his face. Tiredly, Piers nodded again, and Leon's smile grew. "Okay, I'll fix you something."

Piers sat in the chair, drifting in and out of sleep, vaguely aware of the sounds the genial man was making in the kitchen. Finally, the wafting scent of cooking beef roused him to alertness. Even after all his time spent traveling, and as exhausted as he was, his hunger trumped his need for sleep. Pulling his body out of the chair, Piers went to investigate the scent. Noticing the younger man peeking into his kitchen, Leon smiled.

"So, you're finally awake." He commented, glancing over at the other.

"It smells good." Piers commented quietly, indicating the food was what had woken him.

"It'll be done soon. Feel free to get your plate ready." Leon promised, flipping the burgers in the pan, gesturing to the plates, buns, and fixings that had been set out. Affording the other survivor some normalcy, he staved off his desire to question him about his sudden appearance in his apartment, and seeming return from the dead. That could wait for full stomachs.

"Thank you, Agent Kennedy." Piers rasped slightly, his voice as tired as he was. Washing his hands, he got out a bun, and started placing the things he liked on it.

"Please, call me Leon." The fellow survivor offered, removing the formality between them. That, and being called "Agent Kennedy" was something he'd rather leave behind in Spain with the deaths of Salazar and Saddler. Nowadays, it just creeped him out to be called such. Nodding, Piers made note that Leon was a casual sort of person, and wished to be addressed as such. Or maybe he was just trying to put him at ease. It worked though.

While the patties finished cooking, Leon got out his own bun, saving his fixings for later. He then placed a patty on each bun, before breaking up a third, smaller one and placing it in his dog's bowl as a rare treat for her. Once they both had their burgers fixed, Leon gestured for them to sit at the table. Piers' stomach let out a loud complaint, and he went to dig in, ravenous in his hunger.

"Don't eat it too fast. If you haven't eaten in awhile, you'll make yourself sick." Leon warned, and Piers stopped a moment, looking at Leon before slowing down despite his stomach's complaints. Once they had both calmed down, Leon decided it was time to ask.

"So, Piers. How are you in my apartment?" Leon finally asked, watching the young soldier devour his food. Piers looked up at Leon, swallowing as quickly as he could.

"Through the window..." The younger admitted sheepishly. Leon shook his head though.

"I mean how are you sitting here? I attended your memorial service." The agent clarified, tilting his head.

"Oh... That." Looking down, this was the part Piers had been dreading. "How much did Captain Redfield tell you?"

"The official story is that you threw yourself in front of the BOW, and died saving Chris." Leon informed Piers, a stern expression on his face. "Though Chris told me different. He said it grabbed you by the arm because you were protecting him, and your shoulder was impaled when it threw you. He also told me that you infected yourself with a strain of the C-Virus to get back on your feet and fight it. According to him, you also killed the BOW, and sent him home without you. Said you went down with the rig." The agent recounted, watching as Piers' face fell even further.

"How did you survive? How did you make it out? Why come to me instead of Chris?" Leon finally asked, still watching Piers. "Chris thought for sure you'd drown, or been crushed to death."

"I did... I was... I tried to die in that place. I was so ashamed of what I'd become... What I did to myself. It didn't work though. It turns out that I can't drown. And my body regenerates from damage... I woke up on a beach with your address in my pocket. I don't know how it got there." Piers confessed, and Leon tilted his head in mild confusion at the mention of a mysteriously appearing note. It then hit the agent like a ton of bricks.

"By any chance was the window unlocked when you got here?" The agent asked, tilting his head, curiosity in his eyes.

"Yes, actually. It was. Why?" Piers asked, looking up at Leon, decidedly confused.

"You have a guardian Angel on your shoulder who wants me to look out for you. You're lucky, Kid, she doesn't do this for just anyone." Leon told him, an amused look on his face. The woman he and Chris had been so hell bent on killing had directed him to Leon. It was likely she'd had a hand in getting him out of the facility as well. "I'll put you up for the night, and we'll figure out what to do in the morning, okay?"

"Thank you... you have no idea how much this means to me." Piers proclaimed his thanks, his whole demeanor having lit up.

"Just... Tell me one thing. Why not go to Chris?" Leon asked, having a feeling he knew the answer.

"Well... you see... I uh..." Piers started sheepishly, playing with the drawstring of his hoodie.

"Relax, this isn't a Court Marshall. I'm just curious." Leon placated, and Piers nodded, clearly put at ease by the agent's relaxed manner.

"I uh... I meant to, originally... I got all the way to his house. I was about to go up to his door, and I saw him through the window. I felt so guilty over what I'd done to myself... I've become the thing he hates, the thing he spends his life fighting against. I just couldn't do it." Piers explained, looking down again, obviously ashamed of himself.

Heaving a sigh, Leon ran his fingers through his hair tiredly. That's what he had been afraid of. Nodding, he knew he needed to set Piers at ease.

"It's okay to be afraid, Piers. Chris will understand, I'm sure of it. Just give it time." Leon told him, easing Piers into the truth about his Captain. Perhaps tomorrow, he'd tell Piers what Chris had told him. That Captain Redfield had had every intention of bringing Piers home from that facility, infected or not. Perhaps he'd tell him that after all these years, Jill was still infected too, and that if Chris wasn't judging her, he certainly wasn't judging Piers either.

"I hope you're right." Piers said quietly, his usual demeanor mired by exhaustion and grief. Finishing his meal in silence, to Leon, the young man seemed more a ghost of his former self like this.

Once they had both finished eating, Leon collected both their plates, and moved them to the kitchen. He knew he had to get Piers put to bed before anything else. The young man looked like he was about to fall asleep at the table.

"Let me go get you a fresh change of clothes. You look like you need sleep." Leon told him, and was met with a small nod as Piers seemed to try to curl in on himself and shivered. Disappearing into his bedroom, Leon found a pair of clean clothes, and the extra sheets and blankets for his fold out couch. Returning to the kitchen, he put a hand on Piers' shoulder lightly to rouse him from where he'd drifted again.

"Hey, here's some fresh clothes, you can take the bed. I think you need it more than I do tonight. I put out fresh towels if you wanted a shower as well." Leon told him as he handed Piers a small pile of clean clothes, then went to fix his own place to sleep.

"Thank you, Leon." Piers smiled as best he could manage, then pulled himself up to go change. "Thanks for all this… and for not freaking out."

"It's no problem. Go on, go get some rest. You deserve it." Leon told him with an amused smile at the habitual soldier. In his time, he'd seen too many good people lose their lives over these viruses. If he could help Piers, maybe it was a small victory.

Heading to the bathroom to shower after grabbing the clothes laid out for him, Piers closed the door and started to strip off his worn clothes. Getting his hoodie off, he pulled his long sleeved shirt off next. This exposed the pink scarring along the right side of his torso and up his neck, branching out like roots of a tree. Taking a moment to look in the mirror, Piers ran his left hand over the regrown arm, the flesh of which was still pink and soft. Perhaps he wasn't really scarred in the pattern of his mutation's branching tendrils, maybe it was just fresh skin.

Shaking his head to chase the thoughts, Piers finished undressing and stepped into the shower. His body was desperately begging for sleep, but he needed this too. Needed to be clean and rid of filth and dirt from his travels before he could rest properly.

The hot water felt good on his aching muscles, even though his arm protested the heat on tender skin. Piers borrowed Leon's bottle of shower gel, the scent was clean and helped the young man relax some of the tension of the road.

Grabbing a fresh towel, he dried off, and quickly dressed in the borrowed clothes. Fortunately, he and Leon seemed to be roughly the same size, as the clothes were a decent fit, if only a little loose. Not at all like the time Piers had been forced to borrow one of Chris's shirts, which had engulfed him entirely.

Practically falling into bed, barely bothering with the covers aside from haphazardly pulling them over himself. Immediately, the exhausted young man quickly fell into a deep sleep. In the living room, Leon was not far behind him, curling up with his dog.


End file.
